


I Remain

by notmyyacht



Series: Nevada & His Precious Penguin [5]
Category: Gotham (TV), Trouble in the Heights (2011)
Genre: AU where Nevada lives in the Gotham universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Crossover Pairings, Episode: s03e12 Ghosts, Everything Hurts, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Past Abuse, M/M, Nevada being nice, On-Again/Off-Again Relationship, Oswald is so needy, Past Relationship(s), Protective Nevada, almost handjobs, hasn't everyone on this show abused Oswald?, one-sided nygmobblepot, two assholes struggling with their feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-17
Updated: 2017-01-17
Packaged: 2018-09-18 03:11:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9365210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notmyyacht/pseuds/notmyyacht
Summary: Nevada saw Oswald freak out on television. Old feelings of over-protectiveness draw him to the mansion to check up on him to make sure his precious penguin is okay. Oswald is not okay.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I finally made a separate series for this silly crack crossover ship! Yay! :D
> 
> This takes place directly after "Ghosts" and is completely unbeta'd because I wrote it right after watching the episode. I really cannot let this silly ship go, can I? Oops getting into angsty territory with them in this one! Enjoy!!

Somehow Oswald had managed to scramble his way home without anyone to stop him.

Once behind the familiar and once comforting closed doors of his house, he ordered Olga to not receive any visitors, no matter who they were.

He didn’t thank her as he hobbled to the bathroom. Once there, he slammed the door behind him. Hot tears streamed down his face as he frantically removed articles of clothing. The more layers he removed, the more drops of blood he found on them –on his cuff, the thigh of his pants, his tie, his waistcoat… He really fucked up.

But these bloodspots were _real_ ; he really killed his chief of staff… didn’t he? There was no body, no murder weapon, no blood in his office… maybe he did just imagine it all? He couldn’t have…

Oswald let out a rasp of a wail.

“What’s happening to me?”

 

After what felt like weeks, the door finally opened to reveal Oswald’s maid, Olga.

“Is he home?” is all Nevada asked. When Olga said nothing, Nevada repeated himself in Russian. Olga frowned.

“Mr. Cobblepot isn’t receiving any visitors,” she said in English.

“He’ll see me, whether he wants to or not.” Nevada didn’t wait for Olga to close the door on him and instead, pushed his way through. Olga let out a stream of curses, raising her voice, telling him to get out in both English and Russian.

Nevada ignored her and strode further into the house. At the sound of water running, Nevada turned on his heel and made his way upstairs towards one of the bathrooms.

By the time he reached the top of the stairs Olga had given up and instead glared at him from her place at the bottom.

“Don’t worry, if he personally asks me to leave, I will.” Somehow Nevada’s words resonated with Olga and she reluctantly left him to it.

Nevada pressed his ear to the door. Inside he could hear the shower running mixed with the unmistakable sound of sniffling and choked cries.

What the fuck happened?

He knocked.

“Oswald?” he said softly. When there was no reply, he knocked louder.

There was a sharp gasp followed by a “Go away!”

“C’mon precioso pingüino, it’s just me.”

“I told Olga not to let anyone in!” Oswald’s voice cracked at the end of his sentence.

“Yeah, well, I wasn’t going to take no for an answer. I watched your interview. What the fuck is wrong? You seemed nervous and you said some dumb shit. Wanna talk about it?”

“No!” What the hell did _Nevada_ care, of all people? He was just another thug. What the hell did he care?

“I’m coming in,” said Nevada, already turning the knob before Oswald could protest. He swung the door open and paused at what he saw.

The shower door was wide open, which allowed water to spray onto the floor… and onto the pile of clothing Nevada recognized from Oswald’s interview not one hour ago. Except now that it was up close and personal, he could see the blood. Not much, and mostly on the dark spots so the cameras couldn’t have picked it up so easily.

When Nevada had been watching the interview, there had been a dark spot on Oswald’s cheek. Only now did it click that that spot was blood as well.

Nevada lifted his gaze to the scrawny, pale naked body curled in on itself. Oswald looked like hell. Dark circles hung under Oswald’s sharp eyes like shadows. His black hair was wet and matted to his forehead, making him look even worse than he probably already was. When the fuck was the last time he ate a decent meal? Or slept?

“Jesus…” Nevada closed the door and removed his leather jacket.

“Nevada please, just go. I’ve been having a horrible week and I just want to be alone.” Oswald turned his face away. He couldn’t bear to look at him. He braced himself for Nevada to drag him from the shower, for Nevada to pat his cheek just a little too hard and tell him that he fucked up as mayor, that he’s pathetic…

Nevada released a heavy sigh, crooking his jaw to the right in contemplation.

“I’m not going,” he said.

A dull anger burned in Oswald’s chest. Why couldn’t he just let him be, _for once?_ Oswald lifted his head to tell him he didn’t need Nevada’s judgment or his harsh words or whatever Nevada wanted to stay for. Words suddenly failed Oswald.

Nevada wasn’t moving to drag him from the shower or yell. No, Nevada was removing his clothes.

“W-What are you doing?”

“I’m not leaving you alone. If you don’t want to talk about it, fine. But don’t wallow in your misery alone.”

Oswald didn’t want Nevada, he wanted Ed. He wanted Ed to be the one to come into the bathroom and be by his side while he cried… but he got Nevada. Perhaps Nevada was all he deserved. Nevada never fell in love with dead ringer librarians, never rejected him when he needed someone. Nevada was always there. Before Ed, there was Nevada. When Ed turned his back on him, Nevada was there. Ed’s his best friend… what does that make Nevada?

With his clothes lying discarded to the floor beside Oswald’s, Nevada stepped under the spray of hot water. He closed the shower door, his face inches from Oswald’s. He placed a hand on Oswald’s waist, his thumb traced over the hip bone there.

“Has your Russian maid been feeding you okay?”

“Yeah,” said Oswald softly, his eyes not leaving Nevada’s.

Nevada huffed, “Doesn’t look it.”

“I’m fine, Nevada.”

Nevada took Oswald’s chin in his free hand.

“Then what are these dark circles under your eyes?”

Nevada could always see through him. Oswald hated it. He hated Nevada so much. Whatever he felt for Ed it wasn’t what he felt for Nevada. With Ed it was pure, he really loves Ed. This, whatever it is with Nevada… it’s not love.

And yet Oswald’s eyes welled up and he spilled everything that had happened the last few months. Everything about Ed, Isabella, his father’s ghost, the murder he committed earlier in the day… he told Nevada everything.

The entire time he spoke, Nevada listened intently. During the explanation of how Oswald had Isabella killed, Nevada snatched up the shampoo bottle and started washing Oswald’s hair.

“What are you-?”

“Just cleaning the blood out,” Nevada had said, “continue.”

Oswald didn’t push him away. He didn’t stop those hands from running through his hair, soothing and scratching at his scalp. It made it easier for him to talk. As he continued, Nevada scrubbed Oswald’s back, his chest, his legs.

Somehow it was all so much easier, especially talking about his feelings for Ed.

“I love him.”

Nevada let him confide in him. Whatever Oswald felt as love, it probably wasn’t. People like them don’t get to fall in love. Not in the way good people do. Hell, Nevada thought, whatever Ed probably felt for Isabella probably wasn’t as pure as he thought it was either. It was probably for the best she was dead.

“Then I was sitting there and for a moment I didn’t care anymore. Not for my image, not for my ambitions I worked my whole life for… I saw him, Nevada. I did…”

Nevada gently held Oswald under the water spray, rinsing him off. He cupped Oswald’s exhausted face. It was hard to tell if Oswald was still crying, but his lip was quivering and his eyes were red.

“Do you believe me?” he asked.

“I don’t know.”

“His spirit is disappointed in me.”

“Oswald…”

“It was him.” Oswald’s voice was strained, but adamant.

“If you say so, pingüino.” Nevada didn’t believe him. Ghosts weren’t real and even if they were, Elijah Van Dahl would never drive Oswald to kill. Nevada knew dark things about Elijah he never told anyone; they had been friends for years before Oswald even met him. Elijah had done some things in his life he wasn’t proud of, but he would never…

Something about the entire situation wasn’t right. Either Oswald hallucinated Elijah’s ghost and the entire murder, or someone was fucking with him. The former option might be partially true. The blood was proof enough that someone had it coming. The latter option however… Oswald had many enemies; it was entirely possible. If someone did do something, they had done a thorough and well-constructed job of it. That thought sat like an ember in Nevada’s stomach. He forced himself to push it to the side. That was something to think carefully about later when he didn’t have an upset Oswald in his arms.

An upset Oswald, whose eyes welled up again and he leaned in to rest his head on Nevada’s shoulder. Nevada kept his arms around Oswald as they stood under the hot water together, letting it run down their bodies. Like a warm blanket.

Nevada is always there for him. Oswald briefly wondered why he had pushed him away at first. So foolish.

Noticing his fingers were pruning, Nevada frowned slightly and turned the shower off.

“C’mon,” he encouraged, opening the shower door. He grabbed two towels from the shelf and handed one to Oswald, who stood there holding it, but not using it.

Nevada quickly dried himself off and dumped his damp towel on the floor with the rest of their clothes.

“Here.” He took the towel from Oswald’s hands and wrapped it around him.

 

“Stay.”

Nevada hadn’t planned on leaving. He climbed into the giant, soft bed with a dry but still naked Oswald.

He let Oswald rest his head on his shoulder, expecting him to fall asleep at any moment. Oswald did not fall asleep.

Nevada’s eyebrows rose at the feel of a hand deliberately brushing against his cock. He looked down at Oswald, who nuzzled Nevada’s chest hair. That same deliberate hand breached the covers for only a moment, just to receive a good lick from Oswald before diving back down. It gently wrapped around Nevada’s cock.

“What are you doing?” It was Nevada’s turn to ask.

“Isn’t this why you’re here?” Oswald’s voice had only a tinge of bitterness to it. He started moving his hand on Nevada.

Nevada glared at him and slapped his hand away. Oswald’s stared up at him in surprise. Nevada raised an index finger at him.

“Don’t you fucking dare. I’m not here to fuck you,” he snarled. He felt insulted. Yes, Nevada loved sex, especially sex with Oswald, but the idea of being reduced to nothing but a hound in someone’s mind…

“Then what _are_ you here for?” Oswald sneered.

Good question.

Initially, Nevada wanted to know why the fuck Oswald had lost his mind on live television, but during the drive he had become worried. Worried about what, he wasn’t sure. Or maybe he did.

People like them don’t fall in love.

“Because you looked like shit on television and it was very unlike you. I came here to see if you finally snapped for good, like the little psycho shit you are.”

The hurt look in Oswald’s eyes made Nevada wish he just told the truth. But it was too late now.

“Well, I hope what you found was satisfying,” Oswald snarled and gave Nevada a good shove. He turned on his side, his back to Nevada, and silently waited for Nevada to leave.

Oswald hated Nevada.

“You’re such a fucking child sometimes, Oswald. I came here to see if you were alright. You _did_ look like shit on TV. It’s not like you to act like that. I was… worried.” Oh god, Nevada had to turn away. He did not just allow himself to admit that.

But he did.

He sat on the edge of the bed for a minute. For a moment there was complete silence, then a rustling of sheets. Skinny pale arms slipped around Nevada’s shoulders and he felt Oswald’s breathing on his neck.

Nevada turned his head and allowed Oswald to press his lips against his.

Oswald always crawled back to him and Nevada was always there.

Nevada hadn’t come there for sex. Oswald still loved Ed, but he was hurting. And Nevada was there, as he always was.

It was strange, taking it slow with Oswald. In the past it was always rough and hot and generally over in less than an hour. But this was warm, and slow, and so unlike the both of them. At the very end, when things suddenly got faster and both were desperate for release, that’s when it felt like them again.


End file.
